


With Fire in Her Eyes

by JessicaPendragon



Series: Canon Keela Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 30 day role playing challenge, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Solavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 17,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5111744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaPendragon/pseuds/JessicaPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entries for my Inquisitor Keela Lavellan for the 30 Day Role Playing Challenge made by brennacedria on tumblr. Lots of Solavellan, some Knight-Captain Rylen love, Dalish things and my Inquisitor being the awesome babe that she is. </p><p>
  <a href="http://jessicapendragon.tumblr.com/tagged/30-day-role-playing-challenge">Tumblr Link</a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Describe your character’s relationship with their mother or their father, or both._

Her father’s hand lands heavy against her shoulder and she shifts the little weight of her pack to balance. She can still see her mother’s hand waving, the other running slow across a swollen belly too large for travel. She can still hear her little brother’s wails as he chased their small aravel as far as his little legs could carry. They are beyond reach now, but with each passing mile they traveled, she let a little bloom of foolish hope grow that her father might change his mind.

“You’re really not coming?” she asks and the fingers on her shoulder tighten. He may be here, but his yellow eyes are leagues away already. 

“You are my clever and strong daughter who is not afraid of anything, isn’t that so?” His hand moves to brush against her jaw, gaze tracing the soft lines of her young face. “We will write to you often and visit when we can, as promised. You’ll be fine, my daughter.”  

A shadow crosses over them and he glances up into the eyes of her new Keeper, but Keela keeps her attention on her father. She listens as he shakes hands with a stranger, feels the final kiss upon her brow and the breath of his _I love you, always_  on her cheek, watches as the aravel turns and travels back the way they came.

She stands in the empty road until he disappears from sight and even for long minutes after that until a foreign voice calls. “Come, da’len. We have a lengthy journey ahead of us, but I do believe it is a lovely day for a walk.”

Keela looks away from the dust trail of her family and towards her new life. A thousand miles later, she wonders if she was born with this wild fire inside or if it was created that day.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_What are your character’s most prominent physical features?_

Freak, strange, different. Shem. 

She knows the last one is supposed to hurt the most, but it doesn’t sting as much as it should. She’s read scrolls upon scrolls of the history of humans and their brash ambitions. They take what they want, bow to no masters. She would rather be more human if it will take her away from all this endless _waiting_. 

She’s thirteen, all limbs and bones, and already taller than all the others her age. Taller than some of the elders in clan Lavellan. It does not go unnoticed, especially by her peers. The adults are more subtle in their scrutiny but she cannot always escape from the brutal honesty of children.

“I bet your father isn’t even an elf,” one says as they stand in the bright sunshine. “Maybe Deshanna found you on the side of the road, unwanted.”

“Are you calling my mother a liar, Sephren?” a louder voice says, threat growling. She glances at Denras and rolls her eyes.  

“I didn’t-”

“We are here to race, right? Quit fluffing your own feathers and let’s get to it. All bets are done!”

Keela crouches down, lean muscles shivering in anticipation. “Go!” Denras shouts and she forgets everything else. The ground beneath her bare feet shifts and she moves with it. In the corners of her eyes she is vaguely aware of the others running beside her, but she concentrates on the wind against her skin, the rapid song of her heart. There are no rules, no expectations, no toxic words. There is only the sound of their breaths and the beat of their feet. Freedom.

They wrap around the glade and the finish line comes into view. Her long limbs have carried her to the front of the pack but she is not alone. Sephren keeps abreast with his quick feet and the sight of her spurs him on even harder. They glare at one another in a brief moment of haughty challenge. When the end is close, some unspoken agreement passes between them and they launch forward, flying through the summer air.

She huffs as she lands in the hard dirt. The dust of their efforts drifts about their heads and she tries to catch the breath that’s quickly left her.

When the air clears, Keela’s fingers tickle across the line. She glances over to Sephren and finds his hand is reaching just above her elbow in height.

“Fenedhis,” he mutters, fist pounding into the ground. There are some grumblings from the crowd, but most of her kin cheer in excited surprise and congratulations.

Denras helps her to her feet with a wide grin. She wipes the dust from her clothes and feels ten times taller with the pride swelling in her chest. They think twice before betting against her now.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Name one scar your character has and tell us where it came from. (She doesn’t really have any worth noting, but she does have something that will work for this!)_

There’s a clang, bang and Keela grunts. The attack rattles up her arms in painful waves even as her fingers seem to go numb from the impact. The staff clatters to the ground and a discontented sigh fills the air. “You are not concentrating, da’len. We should cease before you injure yourself.”

Keela shakes out her arms before bending down to pick up the weapon. “No, I can do this.”

The trainer gives her a hard stare before twirling his staff into the first position. “As you wish.”

She tries her best to focus, but he is right. Her body might twist and dive through the motions of practice, but her mind is far away, floating through the thoughts of the Arlathvhen drawing near. It will be her first year attending as Deshanna’s First.

Too long she has spent cooped up in clan Lavellan with the same dusty books and the same shared tales. There will be new faces, new stories, new ways of the Dalish she might find sing to her searching soul. Her heart already dances in excited beats at the endless possibilities.

But apparently her limbs are not quick enough today. There’s a crack, crunch, and Keela lets out a startled gasp. The world explodes in vibrant colors of pain. She clutches at her nose and feels warm blood pour into her grasp. There are shouts and movement, but she can only concentrate on the searing strokes of lightning between her eyes.

“Keela!” There’s a hand on her shoulder and beneath her chin and through the tears and blood she finds the Keeper’s gaze. “Oh, you foolish girl.”

Deshanna places a cloth beneath her nose to catch the blood and sends gentle healing magic through her hand to smooth the edges of Keela’s pain. “It is broken and needs setting.”

“No!” She bats away the incoming, unwanted touch.

“Do you want to go about forever with a completely crooked nose then?” Keela bites her lip, considering, and Deshanna gives a short laugh. “Don’t be stubborn as well as foolish.”

With a quivering inhale, Keela tilts her face up in offering. There’s a twist, snap, and her scream echoes through the valley.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solavellan

_How vain is your character? Do they find themselves attractive?_

She looks at her reflection in the mirror, skin fully bared to the bright candlelight and close inspection. Long fingers trace down the gentle slope of her brow, fall to follow the length of her jaw. Her skin is smooth beneath the touch, flawless even after all the battles and time passed. Blushing lips are next in the examination, warm and supple and she can’t help but bite into their fullness.

Keela’s eyes linger on the line of her collarbone down through the valley between her breasts. The muscles of her abdomen twitch beneath a fingernail and there’s a fluttering inside as the hand comes to rest against the sharp outline of her hip. She knows she’s attractive with her glowing skin, the irresistible pout of her lips, the long and toned strength of her body. It is with pride she often glances at herself in passing mirrors and glass. Many have spoken into her ear with words laced in reverence and adoration and she smiles, a predator aware of the trap they’ve laid, a dragon hoarding compliments like golden trinkets. 

The hand moves between her thighs and her own fingers grip tight to his clothes behind her as Solas worships her with teeth and touch, lips and love. His mouth wraps around her ear before whispered words brush against her cheek and shiver through her veins. “You are so beautiful.” 

And though she’s always known, believes she deserves it, it is a different type of pleasure that curls inside her to hear it from his mouth.

 


	5. Chapter 5

_What’s your character’s ranking on the Kinsey Scale? (AKA, orientation)_

Keela lets out a thoughtful hum as The Iron Bull finishes explaining the Qunari methods of relieving specific tension. “I admit, I’ve never found the Qun very appealing, but it just got a little more interesting at least. You make sex sound more like a simple task to be achieved though. You find release, but what about pleasure?”

“Oh, there’s been plenty of that too. There’s a certain red head in Redcliffe that can attest to that. She’ll probably show you, if you wanted.”

Keela shakes her head. “Not my type.” 

Her eyes glance from the tip of Bull’s toes to the points of his horns, her lip caught between worrying teeth. The heated scrutiny doesn’t go unnoticed. “Something else on your mind?”

“I’ve never been with a Qunari before. Elves, of course. Shemlen. A dwarf once. I imagine it would be… _plenty_.”

Bull lets out a loud laugh. “Listen, with thighs like those I’m definitely interested, but it’s usually not a good idea to fuck your boss. Things tend to get messy and not in a good way. Once this whole Breach business is over though, if you want I could show you the ropes.”

There’s a smug smirk on his lips at that, as if it’s a joke in some way, and although she doesn’t understand Keela returns the smile. “We’ll see.” 

She bids him farewell and takes the the steps two at a time up into Haven. A week later they seal the Breach, but she never takes him up on the offer in the aftermath of what, and who, follows.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solavellan

_Describe your character’s happiest memory._

Fingers twist round one another as she all but races down the hall, her feet matching the frantic beating of her heart. Nobles and servants bow along the sides, but she barely sees them with her mind concentrating on the latest revelation. It snaps in sharp beats of nervousness, shakes with tingling excitement. She feels close to breaking apart when she enters their apartments.

She follows a soft trail of music and drifts through layers of rainbows made by the gleam of crystal walls and bright sunshine beyond. A child’s laughter intertwines with the quiet tune and Keela smiles at its familiar trill. The quest ends at the threshold of their bedroom and she pauses to catch a glimpse of the scene beyond.

Solas sits upon a plush rug with Fenera, toys and papers forgotten, as the two play with magic spheres of colored lights between them. Little fingers reach up as they fall down and a happy squeal leaves the girl’s mouth when they pop at her touch. 

The things warring inside Keela settle at the sight. The contentment and love lighting up her lover’s face, the youthful awe and intelligence growing in her daughter’s eyes. Warmth moves in tendrils curling through her veins and twining thick between her ribs. Worries wither away until there is nothing but blossoms of joy bursting within. She doubts she could be happier than this.

It is Fenera’s caretaker that notices her first. The elf woman sweeps in from a side room and gives a short gasp to see Keela present. “Oh, greetings my lady.”

“Mamae!” A bundle of black hair and wobbly knees rushes forward and Keela scoops Fenera into her arms.

“I thought someone was supposed to be napping,” she says and casts an accusing gaze at Solas. “Mnuvae, would you take her for a moment? I must have a few words with this wretched enabler.”

She makes promises of her own into Fenera’s ear before passing her to the waiting grip of the nursemaid. Solas spreads his fingers in surrender when their echoes recede further away. “I await your judgement for my transgressions.”

He dips his head in apology, but she does not believe it with the grin tugging at the corner of his lips. The playful mischief she once had to draw out with frustrating patience now sits exposed. Eyes look at her with earnest care, unafraid to express what he desperately tried to hide not so long ago. 

“Vhenan?” She finds his gaze confused now and realizes she has lapsed into silence. Words are trapped behind this sudden lump in her throat, drowning in the slow flood of tears growing in her eyes. Confusion turns to concern at her reaction and Solas unfolds himself from the floor. She covers her face as he approaches, a smile and a sob on her lips. “Keela! What is wrong?”

Solas reaches for her hands but she flings them around his neck, startling him with a firm kiss. Arms slide around her in an act as natural as breathing and tighten with comforting strength. “Absolutely nothing,” she whispers.

“Then, I do not under-”

“I’m pregnant. Again.” She blurts it out, no quick trick to play this time. Keela watches the words strike like lightning behind his eyes, shocking his mind into stillness before it all rushes in with wondrous thunder. The way his face alights with elation has her floating away, even more so than the way he lifts her off the ground to hold her impossibly, perfectly close.

She was wrong. She could be happier.


	7. Chapter 7

_Is there one event or happening your character would like to erase from their past? Why?_

There is blood in the rain. She doesn’t know if it’s hers or someone else’s that runs down her face and stings in her eyes. 

“We need to hold that hill at all costs.” But those are her words and she doesn’t believe she’s saying them. Her gaze locks with Bull’s, begging to disagree, to fight this, to save all of them. She can’t do it.  _She can’t_. She is the Inquisitor and a piece of paper promising thousands of lives is worth more than a handful in a war without borders. 

He only sighs, defeated. 

She wants to hit him, burn every Venatori herself until all the water in the Storm Coast is gone. She wants to look away as the first of the Chargers fall, but she doesn’t. They are owed this and she must never forget what happens here. They will become another sentence in a history book, barely mentioned when scholars sing about the miraculous alliance between the Qun and Inquisition, but she will remember their names as if they are branded into her skin.

She wants to crumple to her knees under this weight, but she stands strong as Dalish catches an arrow in her chest, as Krem’s shield falters and a sword slips through his armor. She must feel every strike and blow and wear these bruises on her heart for all time. She wants to scream but she remains silent, still. She is the _Inquisitor_  and she can show no weakness or hesitation even as parts of her shatter apart. Her body is a statue that honors the sacrifice, a sacrifice that they have demanded.

The Inquisitor cannot feel regret, but it fills Keela up until she is drowning in this storm of her own making.

There is blood on the ground. She doesn’t know how she will ever scrub it clean.


	8. Chapter 8

_Day of Favorites! What’s your character’s favorite ~~ice cream flavor? Color? Song? Flower?~~   Food?_

Keela throws her pack across the tent as she enters. It knocks a basin over, spilling water and the contents onto the rug below. She lets out a curse as her things become wet and kicks them away, sending them spiraling in different directions across the space. Every passing moment is worse than the one before, every action only igniting the rage inside. So she sits down and grabs at her hair, a heated growl clawing its way up her throat.

She will never escape from here. She will never see the elegant ballrooms of Orlais, never walk the grand halls of Orzammar or run through the slopping fields of Ferelden. It is ironic to feel so trapped by a people that are always in motion. The whole of the Free Marches to Rivain is her home, but there is a chain around her neck that will not allow her to stray far. It is the freedom of a bird trapped behind bars barely close enough to keep wings pinned.

“Keela?”

“What!” she snarls before even registering who stands at the entrance of her tent. The anger in her yellow eyes dims to see Suvenya creeping inside. The younger girl gives an apologetic smile, fingers brushing long brown hair behind an ear before returning to wrap around a basket handle.

“I heard about your fight with mother.”

“Did Deshanna send you to spy on me?”

Suvenya rolls her eyes and plops down on the rug. “She told us to stay away from you. Here, I brought you something to help.”

She moves the cloth away and Keela inhales the calming scent of warm bread. Nimble fingers of a future huntress cut a roll in half to reveal the mostly hollow centers coated with cheese. Keela accepts the offering and sighs with contentment as she takes a bite. The hearty warmth of the bread spreads through her chest, the smoky taste of the cheese erasing the bitter taste in her mouth.

“Better?” Suvenya asks, all kindness behind the knowing smirk.

“Yes, thank you.” Keela reaches out and touches her arm. She may be stuck in this cage for now, but at least she is not alone.


	9. Chapter 9

_Who does your character trust?_

The wood beneath her feet creaks but she pays it little mind. Everything in the Forbidden Oasis shifts and groans and she’s not going to let anything stop her from reaching this last shard. Months and months and months searching for these wicked things and the final pieces is right within reach. Keela can’t believe they missed it the last time they were here, but she was perhaps to busy wrapped up in someone else to care.

Keela shakes her head to rid her mind of the memories as she jumps down to rocks jutting out above the clear pools below. She came here to get away from thoughts of him, unable to stand walking into that empty rotunda for one more day. She’ll stay in the west for as long as it takes for his scent to leave her pillows in Skyhold.  

“Did you get it?” Cassandra calls from above.

She scoops down to grab the whispering stone and shoves it into her pack. “Yes, coming back up!”

Keela lets out a sigh as she steps back onto the rickety walkway. The last one. Now they can open the final door and see what lays beyond. Too bad he’ll never see it, the cowardly son of-

In the next step the wood groans, cracks, and Keela falls along with it. “Inquisitor!”

She twists her body and reaches out with blind hands behind her. Some of the pathway crashes with sickening crunches below, but she manages to grab a section dangling but still connected to the main structure by uncurling ropes. Keela watches it all strain beneath her weight and knows she will never be able to climb up in time.

“Keela!”

Cassandra is laying down with her arm outstretched and Keela doesn’t hesitate. Her fingers clasp with the Seeker’s just as the planks snap and fall away. She is weightless before gravity pulls her down and for a moment she thinks it’s over until Cassandra’s strong gasp stops her descent. 

Keela grabs her other hand and watches as the warrior woman pulls her up towards safety with Dorian’s help. They both collapse when it is safe, limbs tangled and lungs greedy for stolen breaths. 

When her heart stops pounding in her throat, Keela turns her eyes towards her friend. They both pause before laughter tickles its way passed their lips. It echoes against the red canyons walls and drowns out Dorian’s mutterings.

“Thank you for catching me,” Keela says when they’ve settled and clamps her hand down on Cassandra’s shoulder. 

The Seeker smiles and returns the gesture. “Always, Inquisitor.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

_Can you define a turning point in your character’s life?_

The salty sea air tickles down her throat as she takes a deep breath. It mixes with deep spices, the tang of fish, the sweat of bodies pressed closed on the crowded planks of Ostwick’s docks. Her eyes glance behind at the houses built into the hillside like crooked, colorful teeth. Gulls circle above and far away around the parapets of Chantry. In the far distance she can see the stubborn strength of the Circle thrusting alone into the sky. 

There’s an impatient tug on her sleeve followed by an even more impatient voice. “ _Keela_ , let’s go.”

She shifts the pack on her shoulder and sighs. “Yes, hahren.”

Her feet follow Elarin’s through the tangle of shemlen, dwarves and few qunari towards a ship with massive red sails faded to pink from the sun. A patchwork of newer wood freckles the upper haul, but it is still one of the most beautiful things Keela has ever seen. It is the key to her adventure, to a freedom only once dreamed.  

“You have a pass?” a rough voice questions, the shem’s eyes skeptical beneath bushy brows. Keela bristles at the way he closes himself off at the sight of Elarin’s heavy vallaslin, but her elder companion pulls their papers out with only a pleasant smile. 

The sailor takes them and his posture cools to see the raised seal. “Don’t get many Dalish passengers. Whaddya doing in Ferelden?”

“Merely visiting with other clans. May we embark?”

“Yeah, yeah. The guest quarters are down the steps to the right. Pick a bunk. Not private, but I guess yer used to that. Welcome aboard.”

Elarin thanks the man as Keela brushes passed and races across the deck. She can feel the eyes of a few latch onto her tall frame, stutter as they reach her ears, but she only has eyes for what lays beyond the harbor.

The dark blue of the Waking Sea spreads to the horizon. She can see the smudge of Brandel’s Reach in the distance and wonders how close to the island they will come as they sail down towards the Coastlands. Wind beats against the sails above as excitement rattles in her heart. 

“You are too obvious. Calm yourself,” Elarin whispers in her ear. “We must remain in the shadows, small and cowed like the shems think we are. Come, let us go below.”

She follows, feet anchors of reluctance, and pauses for one last look at her future stretched out in endless possibility. They have a duty at the Conclave, but she will take every opportunity to explore the worlds unfurling within her grasp. Two days with good wind and her life will truly begin. She can only imagine what wonders await.


	11. Chapter 11

_Is there an animal you equate with your character? (I’m going to base this off of if Keela was a[companion](http://jessicapendragon.tumblr.com/post/120860815189/keela-as-companion) since it goes so well with that.)_

“It should be near. Stay alert.” 

They’ve tracked the animal to the small grove cradled by a looming rock wall leading up towards Duke Voclain’s lands. Instead of a den, the Herald and his companions come across a small campfire, smoke still curling from the remains of a small fire.

“Not exactly the type of hunting I thought we’d be doing with all these demons around,” Varric says as he levels Bianca towards the trees. 

“It might be one in the same. This beast has shown an intelligence above other members of its species,” Solas remarks.

“You think it’s a demon?”

“Or perhaps possessed, much like the wolves we encountered in the Hinterlands,” he answers Cassandra’s question.

“Wonderful. Do you-” A deep growl interrupts the Herald. Their quarry appears at the top of the wall, a panther darker than any night and larger than any they have ever seen. It moves down the stone, its attention never swaying from the pack of humans. At the sight of it, Adaar doesn’t feel like the hunter anymore.

With a thud it lands on the ground before them and long claws stretch to dig into the dirt. A threat rumbles from its throat as its gaze darts from person to person as if it is waiting for the first move.

“Varric, distract it with some arrows and Cassandra and I will rush in. Solas-”

The cat launches itself towards Varric before any of them can move. Teeth clamp down on Bianca and rip the crossbow from his hands. “Hey! Give that back you bastard!”

It prances around, tailing flicking in long strokes like an excited kitten. Cassandra moves forward, shield and sword lashing out, but the animal evades with a speed no mortal thing should possess. The air cools as Solas casts a spell and captures a leg in glistening ice. The panther drops the weapon and snarls at the mage, anger replacing playfulness in an instant.

With a roar it shakes free of the ice before Cassandra’s blade finds home and launches itself towards the nearest body. The beast barrels into Adaar, throwing him back and trapping him between gigantic paws with its maw open wide inches from his face.

“Herald!” Cassandra shouts and the looming jaws snap shut. The animal’s head turns, curious and clever yellow eyes taking measure of him, before it quickly moves away from them all. The air shimmers with magic and its body shifts, shrinks, and in a flash a woman replaces monster.

She is an elf, taller than any Adaar has seen before, with jet black hair and those bright eyes. There are red branches under her eyes and although he doesn’t know their exact meaning, he knows they mark her as Dalish. 

“A Shapeshifter,” Solas says as Cassandra helps Adaar back to his feet.

The elf smirks. “How very observant.”

“Why is a lone mage attacking the duke’s men?” the Seeker asks.

“I am not the only one who isn’t as they appear. I’m sure the duke promised you many things for my demise, but I’ve been doing everyone a favor. He’s a slaver selling my people and others to Tevinter by the wagon-full. I am not the beast here.”

“These are bold claims without proof.”

“And what proof could a Dalish elf provide that anyone would heed? I’ve been attacking in hopes someone would notice, maybe investigate just exactly what he’s been shipping. And you show up.” 

“If there’s a chance her claims are true, we shouldn’t ignore it. The duke did seem a little skittish when we approached the covered wagons.”

“And how are we going to convince him to let us take a look?” Varric reclaims his weapon, frowning at the shallow teeth marks on the stock.

“I’ve heard of your deeds across Thedas.” The shapeshifter tilts her head again, thinking, and it is intimidating in this form as well. “I will volunteer myself as bait if you promise to see justice done. I am sure the duke would enjoy seeing me brought back in chains.”

“You would trust us that much? We did just try to kill you.”

“Poorly. I do not have many choices. I will take the chance to see him answer for what he’s done,” she replies with vengeance coating her words.

“All right,” Adaar says after a thoughtful pause. “We’ll try it your way. What’s your name?”

“Keela.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rylen Romance

_How is your character with technology? AND/OR, DEPENDING ON SETTING: How is your character with magic or the supernatural?_

Fire erupts from her and soars above their heads like a phoenix reborn. The soldiers around the fighting arena back up with gasps at the intense heat and power born from their Herald of Andraste. Cullen told her not to hold back and she is more than happy to oblige. More than happy to show them all what she is capable of no matter the shape of her ears or the lines on her face.

She can feel her opponent’s Purge pushing around the edges, but it is not enough to cut through and quell this inferno. The fire flies forward with a roar to swallow the field whole and the crowd disappears leaving only her and the smoking tendrils brushes lovingly against her cheeks, battering against her opponent. For a moment she loses sight of him in the swarm and that one second is all that he requires. 

The templar is a rush of steel and armor bursting through the flames. Her barrier does little to brunt the impact of his shield and Keela is flung back, staff spiraling from her hands, and lands with a dismal thud in the dirt. The firestorm snaps out to rain ash down on their heads. She is quick to sit up and finds the touch of a sword beneath her chin.

With his free hand, Knight-Captain Rylen removes his helm to reveal a victorious smirk. “I think the field is mine, Lady Herald.”

“Are you sure about that, Rylen?” Cullen calls from the sidelines. 

Keela presses her dagger just a little harder into the space between his leg and groin, a grin of her own curling to watch his eyes grow wide in surprise. He shakes his head, shock turning to appreciation. “Clever lass.”

“Well fought, both of you,” the Commander says as he approaches. Rylen extends a hand and pulls Keela back to her feet. “You have a tremendous amount of power, Herald, but it’s obvious you’ve fought few templars in your time. Maker knows you’ll be doing a lot more of that soon and you’ll need to be prepared. Try to concentrate your magic instead. Quick and hard.”

Keela looks to Rylen and lifts her eyebrow at that. He laughs, a chuckle deep in his throat that she can almost feel.

“And you.” Cullen shoves the other man’s shoulder, ignorant of their silent communication. “You should know better by now than to underestimate your opponent. Again!”

Keela replaces the dagger inside her boot and bends down to retrieve her staff. She turns it in a slow arc and baths herself in a shimmering barrier. “Quick and hard, huh? I can manage that. Think you can you keep up, Knight-Captain?”

“I’m always up for a challenge.”

She smiles and calls lightning from her fingertips. “Good.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solavellan

_What is your character’s primary flaw or weakness?_

These scribbles mean something, she just knows it. 

Keela pulls the thick blanket closer around her neck and leans nearer to the fire blazing in the hearth. Maybe if she wasn’t so cold she could concentrate on the report. Maybe if her head wasn’t pounding, eyes blurry with the pain building in her sinuses, she could actually decipher Josephine’s elegant script.

She inhales a deep gulp of air and tries to breathe life back into her floundering mind. There is too much work to be done for the Inquisitor to be waylaid by a small cold. Corypheus’ red lyrium supplies have been destroyed, the mines of Sahrnia reclaimed, but he is out there somewhere, lurking, waiting, planning. She needs to be a step ahead of him for once. She needs-

“ _Keela.”_

Solas’ frustrated call makes her gasp and dissolve into a coughing spell. Papers are pulled away and his fingers replace them as his other hand runs across her damp forehead. She is freezing, but his cool touch feels wonderful on her skin.

“Did I not stress enough the need for you to rest?”

“I am not a…child who can afford to spend all day in bed. I have…responsibilities,” she says between coughs. “I need-”

“You need to sleep. This illness will only continue to worsen if you do not take care.” He sighs. “But I have told you this before.”

“Solas, I…” She tries to disagree, plead for more time, but her coughing only grows worse.

“Enough.”

She cannot argue nor find the strength to resist as he grabs onto her arms and hauls her off the floor. Keela leans against him as they walk towards the canopy bed and each step drains her already small reserve of strength. Her body feels fuzzy and heavy as she plummets into the welcoming sheets.

Solas hands her a steaming mug and she frowns at the sight of it. “No, it’s disgusting.”

“Drink it. Now,” he demands as he shoves the cup under her nose. With a growl she tips it back, grimaces as the heady earthen taste lingers on her tongue and crawls down her throat. Keela collapses back into the bed and after a few minutes silence returns to the room and she can finally take a breath without incident.

Solas runs his touch across her forehead again. “You are a truly stubborn thing.”

Now that she is nestled within the warm cocoon of covers with his healing magic soothing, she does not resist the pull of slumber drawing near. “You like it,” she mumbles.

Even through half closed lids she does not miss his grin. “In most instances, I would agree.”

“You love me.”

As her eyes close, she feels his lips brush her temple. “Always.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solavellan

_How does your character react to temperature changes such as extreme heat and cold?_ This is probably about as close to Solavellan fluff that I’m going to get today so here ya go.

There will never be a bath hot enough to remove this chill from her bones. Keela kicks at loose stones that dare lay within her path and send them shooting off to disappear into piles of snow. For the first few days of their journey in Emprise du Lion, she let her fire magic burn around her but found it too exhausting to keep throughout the day, too dangerous when they stumbled upon a troupe of red templars and she could barely summon a candle flame.

Now she grumbles, teeth chattering, hands shoved under her arms and bent as far into herself as she can manage against the cutting wind. No matter how many layers she puts on the cold seems to creep between the cracks in her defenses and burrow beneath skin. How anyone could choose to live in such conditions is beyond her. 

Her companions and soldiers have learned to let her be or risk her wrath. Most of them, anyways.

Something hard smacks into the back of her head and explodes, seeps down passed the collar of her armor. Freezing fingers of ice scratch down her back and she screeches at the misery. A familiar laugh echoes against the rock faces surrounding them.

“Sera!” Keela turns to find the rogue, voice heavy with rage, only to find another snowball barreling near with no time to react. It impacts against her chin, bouncing crystals into her face and yet again finding a way to dive underneath her clothes. Fire ignites in her fists. 

Sera’s laughter only grows. “Ate it!” 

“Ar tu na'din!” 

Sera’s nimble feet barely touch the ground and each fireball crashes into rock or lays steaming in snow. Keela isn’t trying to hit her, not really, but she is not opposed to burning a few of those blonde strands from her head. 

Sera bounds behind Bull and he throws up his hands. “Whoa there Boss, let’s not be too hasty.”

Keela growls, fingers flexing in agitation. She opens her mouth to yell, curse both of them, call to nearest red templar and surrender this bitter, broken land, but she does not get the chance. She feels Solas’ spell before it leaves his staff and crashes into the bank above their companions. A large slab of snow shifts and shatters into smaller pieces to rain down hard against Bull and Sera’s heads. It sticks to their clothes and hair, piles atop their shoulders and fills boots up to the ankle. 

For a moment everyone stands still before it is Keela’s laughter that splits the air at the sight. 

“Not fair! Not your fight, you cheating- ah!” It is Sera’s turn to scream, but there is begrudging respect lurking in her eyes despite the childish names now spewing from her mouth. Bull only shakes his horns with a rumbling chuckle and showers more snow on them both. “Hey, watch it!”

Something soft and warm wraps around Keela’s neck and she turns into the familiar scent and feel of Solas’ pelt. She can feel his proud smirk as lips brush against her temple in a brief touch, but it is enough to send a sweet burst of wondrous heat curling through her body. For the first time in this wretched wasteland, she does not feel the cold.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solavellan

_Is your character an early morning bird or a night owl?_

Most of Skyhold is wide awake by the time she returns through the front gate with the sun’s rays following on her tail. She doesn’t stop running until she reaches the upper courtyard and then leans against the wooden practice pit to catch her breath. 

Keela listens to the sounds of the Inquisition softened by the lingerings of sleep yet brightened by the new dawn. There is a moment when the world turns from the bleary wanderings of night to the clarity of day, as if everything takes in a breath and lets it go, that she loves to witness. 

Soon she is shivering as the gentle wind blows across sweat peppered skin, so she heads to the bathhouse beneath the forge. Her own bath provides much needed solitude and comfort, but there is something about the naturally heated waters of the castle that melts away every fatigue and prepares her for the long day, and at this hour she usually has the room to herself. 

She wishes she could just disappear beneath the wonderfully warm water for hours, but there is little time for the Inquisitor to waste with luxury. She soaks for as long as she dares and climbs out, shivering and sighing before she dries off and slips into a modest robe. Refreshed and ready for the long day, she takes the back corridors up into her looming tower two steps at a time.

Her good mood grows when she crests the last of the stairs to find her bed still occupied. Solas sleeps on his side, sheets wrapped around his body like a cocoon. There is always a calmness to him throughout the day, but in slumber there is a peace to the smooth lines of his face. Her feet are drawn to the bed despite the incessant noises of Skyhold growing below. Cotton drifts down her body as she shrugs from her robe and dives beneath the covers to join him.

Solas mumbles as she presses in close, a half conscious smirk moving across his face when he finds her bare skin against his. He draws lazy designs into her hip, but his eyes remain closed against the world. They should both rise to face the long day ahead, but instead Keela places a kiss against the hollow of his throat and feels his fingers dig in with purpose. Perhaps they could stay in for a few more moments.


	16. Chapter 16

_Are there any blood relatives that your character is particularly close with, besides the immediate ones? Are there any others that your character practically considers a blood relative?_

“Andaran atish’an,” Deshanna greets and tilts her head to the Keeper of Clan Jendhara. “We are honored by your presence.”

“And we are grateful to you for allowing us to rest with your people for a few days. Our journey has been long and we are bolstered by your generosity.” 

“It is our pleasure. May I introduce my children? My son, Denras and my daughter, Savenya.” Deshanna sweeps her palms towards Keela next. “And this is my First, Keela.”

“Hahren,” Keela says, bowing low with respect.

“She seems very young,” he says and she straightens her spine to try and appear older, stronger.

“My original protege died from illness years ago. We were blessed enough to find a clan willing to part with someone so promising as Keela. Come, let us show you around the camp.”

The two clans mix together slow at first, but as a great bonfire twists up into the night sky, they link arms and dance around its blazing brilliance. In the light and shadows its create, it is impossible to tell the differences between them. Keela weaves between the clumps of conversation throughout the night hungrily devouring any new stories, new words, new ideas, but she finds her success slowed by the small, needy hands often tugging on her robes.

Suvenya follows her wherever she treads like a loyal puppy. She is only seven years old and uninterested in the wealth of opportunity present and only wishes to play. After one last baleful plea, Keela can take no more.

“Leave me alone, Suvenya!” she shouts and watches the girl’s big, brown eyes instantly fill with tears. She lets out a single, baleful cry before darting away through the crowd. Regret pools within Keela’s chest but her stubborn pride keeps her feet planted firmly in place.

It is much later when Keela crawls into Deshanna’s aravel. The Keeper still keeps vigil with the elders outside while Denras snores in the loft above. Suvenya is curled around flickering candlelight in the corner. Keela creeps closer and glances over the young elf’s shoulder. Little fingers have drawn the bonfire of tonight blazing bright. And there standing next to it is Suvenya with her wild brown hair and Keela, their two hands clasped tight. 

With a guilty sigh Keela drops down and cradles the girl close, chin resting against curls. “I’m sorry for being mean. I was…”

“A jerk?” Suvenya offers.

“Yes,” Keela agrees with a quiet smile. “A very big jerk. You know how important this night was for me, but I wasn’t thinking about anything else.”

“Aren’t I important too?” she asks, soft and hopeful and the sound of it cuts deep. Keela pulls her closer to push away the shame.

“Very much. You’re…you’re the only family I have, Suvenya. I’m sorry, please forgive me.”

There is a pause that fills with Denras’ breathing and the distant haze of conversation far away before there is a reply. “Did you learn any good stories?”

Keela smiles, the tight knot in her chest loosening. Tonight is a good reminder of all the things she still must learn and being part of a true family is a lesson she will not fail again. “I did. I heard one about a lady dressed up as an Emerald Knight. She tries to save her father and meets a very handsome captain. Would you like to hear it?”

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solavellan

_What’s your character’s desk/workspace look like? Are they neat or messy? AND/OR What does your character’s bed look like when he/she wakes up?_

_Ha, I turned it into Solavellan fluff again. No regrets._

Keela lets out a noise of irritation, frowning, as she sifts through the endless piles of papers and books atop Solas’ desk. Amidst them is one of the shards sitting precariously close to the edge, two half full tea cups and a painting cloth. As she lifts a section away, she cringes to find a forgotten sandwich turning green around the edges.

The stacks on her own desk are neat and cataloged, her bed made before the servants can tend to it. The need to put things in order makes her fingers twitch, but she stops herself. There have been a few occasions where she’s managed to organize his workspace only to find it dismantled the next day. And she is the stubborn one.

“Solas, where is it?” she demands and turns to glare at his back. The apostate sits high atop scaffolding tending to his latest artwork.

“I will be with you in a moment,” he says without looking back. Keela crosses her arms, foot tapping and filling a silence that stretches for as long as her patience allows.

“I cannot comprehend how someone as controlled as you can be so disorganized,” she finally says. “How do you find anything in this mess?”

“Quite easily.”

“I don’t have time for this. When you’re finished with your hobbies, bring me the report on Vicinius’ crystal so some of us can get actual work done.”

She is halfway to the door when she hears the wood creak. “I am finished.”

Solas jumps down from the last rung and crosses to his desk. It takes only a quick search before he plucks the document from the piles with ease. At her displeasure, he wears a pleased smirk beneath splotches of paint all across his cheeks. “Quite easily, as I said.”

“Show off.” Keela reaches for the paper only to have him pull away.

“I would say an amazing feat for one who makes so little contribution wasting precious time on frivolous pursuits.”

“You know I don’t mean it. Today has been…” She shakes her head, sighing. “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” She moves closer to take the report from his hand only to have him hide it behind his back. Her brows narrow in anger. “It does not come without cost.” 

He tips his head down with purpose. There is no doubting the playful gleam in his gaze now and Keela rolls her eyes, leaning forward with the intent to give him a quick, paltry peck. As their lips meet, Solas traps her tight with an arm and pulls her into his smeared apron. Keela yelps as he slightly rolls his mouth against hers to brush the paint against her cheeks as well. She yanks away from him, mouth open in shocked surprise.

“Solas! You…Give me that!” With a growl she snatches her prize from his fingers and stalks from the room. As she storms through the entranceway she tries to wipe the blue and green on her face away, but cannot rid herself of the smile stuck there now. It only grows as Josephine asks her what happened and Leliana laughs at Cullen’s confused grimace

And it grows throughout the day as Keela thinks of certain ways to make Solas pay for this tonight.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solavellan

_Is your character a good cook? What’s their favorite recipe or dish, whether they’re good at making it themselves or not?_

“There you are.” Keela jumps down from the edge of her desk as Solas crests the last of the stairs to her chambers. She plays with the long strands of her robe that mirrors the wine color of her vallaslin and his eyes fail to avoid the bare, bronze skin peeking from the v of the neckline.

He reaches for it as he wraps arms tight around her, lips and nose dragging up from between her breasts and across her collarbone. “Vhenan,” he says, breathing it into her skin and punctuating it with a kiss as fingers tease the cloth away from her shoulder. He has not seen her since the morning and has longed for her burning eyes, the feel of soft skin beneath his touch. 

“Wait, wait!” She presses the palms of her hands into his chest as he begins to push them towards the bed. Solas pulls back to see her smile surrounded by flushing cheeks. “I am happy to see you too, but there’s something I want you to try first.”

Keela crosses to her desk and removes a silver plate covering. Steam swirls into the air and Solas breathes in the scents of garlic and lemon and feels his mouth begin to water. 

“My clan usually stayed close to the Minanter River and became quite proficient at cooking fish, but I never had all the supplies that Skyhold has at my disposal. Take a bite.”

Solas obeys and flakes off a piece upon a fork and brings it to his mouth. The fish melts on his tongue and the cream sauce bursts with flavors bright and heavy. His brows shoot up in amazement. “You made this?” 

“Don’t act so surprise. You do eat my cooking in camp all the time.” She folds her arms, voice unamused, but a proud smile transforms her face. 

“I mean no offense, but our rations on the road are hardly feast worth concoctions no matter who prepares them.” Solas scraps his fork across the plate for another taste. “This is delicious, truly.”

“Thank you. I don’t get to cook as much as I used to. Surprisingly, there’s not a lot of free time when one is trying to save the world. I scoured the markets for new spices every time we came across a new town and made Denras and Suvenya my test subjects for many experiments. Perhaps I could even create a tea that you might like too?” 

Solas laughs. “A hopeless cause, I am afraid.”

“We shall see. Eat as much as you would like.” Keela leans forward and places a kiss upon his cheek, moving upwards to bite gently onto his ear. “Just make sure you save room for dessert.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rylen Romance

_What’s your character’s preferred means of travel? (I hope everyone that romances Bull just puts a picture of him :)_

Branches snap against her cheeks and sting to no doubt leave scrapes and trails of blood in their wake. It makes no matter for she’s had vallaslin on her face before and this time these marks are something she chooses. Not from a desperate need for freedom offered, but for the true taste of it no clan or world can deny her.

She feels every powerful motion of the beast beneath her as they pound through the thick tangle of roots and leaves of the Emerald Graves. It is a dangerous terrain they travel, but they do not fear this land once called home. They dive together, lean together, jump together. When the hart trumpets into the air, Keela raises her own voice until they sing together with life and joy rushing through their veins.

They crest the last hill and sprint across open space towards the great Twisted Tree spreading dead limbs into the sky. She pauses to glance at the wolf statue at its base before pushing them as close to the edge of the ravine as they can go. The hart doesn’t shy away from the expanse and only paws at the ground, wild and impatient.

“Good boy,” she praises, petting down the long line of its neck.

A heavy breeze full of sunlight and soil, life and decay, blows through Keela’s hair and deep into her lungs. A smile blooms across her face, brighter and stronger than the thousands of flowers lifting petals towards the sky below. There is nothing but this moment. No Inquisition, no assassins, no worries. She is afloat in this ocean of green and free to sink within its depths.

“You know, outrunning your guard defeats the purpose of having one.”

She turns in the saddle to face Rylen approaching. His piebald stops short of the edge, snorting in protest. “No one can hurt me here.”

“Yes,” he says after looking at her expression. “I don’t doubt it, but it would put my mind at ease.”

“We wouldn’t want you to worry, now would we?” Keela clicks her tongue and urges her companion to his side. It bucks and kicks, thrashing its mighty antlers so Rylen must duck or risk being impaled before it agrees to settle next to the mare’s side. 

He reaches for Keela’s thigh to keep them steady and she feels her pulse flare as his hand moves higher with thumb circling into leather. 

“How’d you ever manage to tame that blighted creature? Only you and Master Dennett ever have any luck with it.”

She grabs onto the head of his saddle and leans over enough to brush against his shoulder and smell the mint on his breath. “Because we understand the truth.” 

“Oh? What’s that, love?” he asks as his hand rises to tangle within her hair.

She moves in closer until he closes his eyes for the kiss to come, but only smirks against his mouth. “You can never truly break a wild heart.”

Keela laughs and waits a moment to see the surprise on his face before she snaps the reins and launches the hart into a run. Rylen watches the Inquisitor fly free back into the trees with a shake of his head and amusement the only thing on his lips.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rylen Romance

_Does your character have any irrational fears?_

A terrible ruckus wakes Rylen up from his slumber. Instincts have him reach for the dagger beneath the pillow and spring from the bed, wide awake and searching the room for dangers. Keela rushes by him, nails scrapping into his shoulder as she huddles against his back. 

“What is it?”

“There’s a wasp by my desk.”

He blinks hard, trying to determine if this is all still a dream. “A what? A wasp?”

“Yes, I-” There’s a humming sound before Keela screams and dives across the bed. The wasp, yellow and black and barely seen against the dark walls and bright sunshine, zooms by his head to meander away towards the corner. 

He drops his defenses and turns to find her crouched down and ready for flight, more fear in her eyes towards this opponent than any dragon, giant or darkspawn faced before. 

“Do something!”

“What you want me to do, smite it?” He laughs at her deep frown. He’s wise enough not to tell her how absolutely adorable she is in this moment. Something, despite the softer sides he knows, he would never assume from Keela. “I can’t believe you’re knocking knees over this git.”

“This ‘git’ is made of pure hatred with no purpose but to torment me. Fine, I will see it sent back to the void.” She opens her fingers and calls forth a ball of fire burning blue.

“Whoa, whoa! I’ll handle it, calm down.” Rylen throws open the gilded doors to the mountain air and, with some gentle coaxing using a few reports, manages to rid the Inquisitor of her greatest nemesis. 

“Shut them!” He shakes his head but obeys and hears Keela let out a large sigh when the task is done. When he looks at her again, there is a deep red bloom across each cheek even as her eyes try to settle on something unflinching. “I will transfer you if you ever speak of this.”

Rylen shrugs as he comes to stand at the foot of the bed. “I have missed the Western Approach.”

“No, it will be the Fallow Mire for you. You’ll be cuddling with corpses,” she threatens, smoke and no flame.

“Your secret is safe with me, love. Come here.” Arms wrap around one another, holding close, and Rylen drops his lips to her neck. He knows he will pay for it, but he can’t help the desire. With a smirk, he makes a buzzing noise and tickles her skin. 

“Rylen!” She squeals, all laughter and smiles, and shoves him back onto the bed.

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solavellan

_****__Does your character have a single underlying passion or trait that influences all aspects of their life?_ (Warning:There’s lots of violence in this one as someone is an idiot and thinks it’s a good idea to beat Keela up. Hint: it’s never a good idea.)

 

He begins to worry as more seconds tick by.  

Solas kneels beside Cassandra as the woman’s blood trickles into the shallow stream. The rift proved more difficult than they anticipated and the warrior faced the brunt of a Terror’s claws. His remaining potions were shattered pieces of glass in his soaked pack, so Keela set off to find shoots of elfroot to help with his magic instead. 

“I have done all I can to mend the wound. It will require more attention when we reach camp.” 

“She has been gone too long,” Cassandra says, eyes scanning the area beyond for signs.

“I agree.” 

“You know our fearless leader, probably got side tracked by one of those runes again. Go look for her. I’ll watch over our Lady Seeker,” Blackwall offers and Solas wastes little time debating it. 

The land is too quiet as he walks between jagged rocks stuck into the drying grass. No halla graze nearby and he hasn’t seen the tufted ears of a fennic in quite some time. What he does see is elfroot swirling up towards the sun, untouched. 

“Inquisitor?” he calls out as he comes across another tower of stone, his insides shifting like stormed tossed waves. He runs his hand along the lines of his staff to draw magic around himself as worry prickles his skin. “Inquisitor! Keela!”

When he rounds another structure two Freemen stand in the shadow of the monument, one pressing Keela against its hard surface with his hand clamped tight across her mouth. Solas catches her desperate eyes and hears a muffled cry before something hard and unforgiving bashes against the back of his head. Stars and darkness become his world as a nausea threatens to consume him. When the Exalted Plains return to focus he finds himself on his knees, arms held out by two more men.

The soldier with Keela lets out a laugh. “Did you hear that, men?  We thought you were just another of those rabbits scuttling like vermin under our feet. But we caught ourselves _the_ rabbit. The Inquisitor!”

“Her magic is coming back,” says man next to him. “That one is another mage, too.”

A purge washes over Solas and he can’t help but gasp as his mana is obliterated. It leaves him cold, breathless, and weaker than before. He feels close to toppling over with the injury to his head and the emptiness in his gut, but concern for Keela keeps him focused. 

Keela’s captor brandishes a dagger and holds it against her cheek. “Where is the rest of your merry band of pretenders?”

“You are not worth my breath,” she says, venom in her gaze.

“You live up to your reputation, it seems. Let us test it.” He pushes the dagger into her skin and doesn’t stop until she lets out a pained hiss and blood pools beneath the tip. Solas struggles forward, his own cold rage building when his magic cannot.

“We should take her back alive, Reese,” warns the mage in their company.

“I’m not going to kill her, but I’ll have some answers from her before we go back to the others. The last thing I want is the captain claiming all the glory for himself. If we can find her companions, all the better. What do you say, rabbit? Have anything to offer me?”

“A quick death, if you let me go now.”

He laughs again, but there is a savage edge to it now. Reese throws his dagger into the ground, but Solas knows the danger is hardly passed. The Freeman backhands Keela across the face, letting her stumble a few inches before ramming a fist into her stomach. She bends over, gasping for lost breath and Solas lets out a snarl, pushing against his captors until he is able to rise to a high crouch. The monster inside claws and bites at the cage holding it hostage. Magic creeps back into his being, but it is not allowed to fill enough to cast a crippling spell. He curses this broken, shadow of a world in which he cannot protect yet another cherished soul.

“Weak, worthless, Dalish scum. You’ll be on your knees soon enough where you kind belongs. It is in your blood to fail, to submit. You’ll tell me everything.”

With a deep breath, Keela straightens and her face is etched in metal and burning with a dangerous heat. The man moves back a step at the sight and Solas can’t help but feel immense pride in her spirit. “Never.”

“Not afraid of this, are you?” Reese shoves her forward into the rocks and yanks at her overcoat, twisting her arms up in the fabric behind her back. “There are other ways to break you. We could take you back to camp with us and hand you over to our templars. You may not be a cooperative prisoner, but as a Tranquil you would have considerable uses.”

For the first time, Solas sees fear flash in Keela’s eyes as she looks at him and their capture sees it too. “I think we’ll begin with your companion to let you see exactly what will happen to you. And you will no doubt be worth more whole, but I care little for some apostate. How many fingers does one really need? Adri-” 

Solas can hear the mark sizzling before a flash of green burns his gaze. A rift opens directly above the mage holding them on a leash and it is a magic that no enemy can understand or thwart. The soldier is slowly drawn into the rift, a scream stretching across his distorted face, until all at once he is sucked into the vortex before it snaps back out of existence. The chains against his magic lift, and Solas lets his power rush through him, sharp and raw with the anger inside. Ice bursts from his fingers and travels up the soldiers holding him. They try to pull away, but the captors become the captives as frost covers them completely. Solas pushes it further, tears into their pores, their eyes, their mouths. They will never feel anything again. He releases them and watches as they crumble into chunks of worthless snow.

Solas stands and glares at the last man standing. The knife is back in his hand and presses to Keela’s neck.

“Not another step,” Reese demands. Solas obeys but everything about him is coiled tight and ready to pounce, his body shimmering as he wraps the Fade around him. “Good. You want to save her? Then you’ll do exactly as I tell you.”

“I do not need saving,” Keela says. Bright eyes shut and she takes a deep breath.

The ground beneath them trembles. Stalks of wicked roots and vines leap from the ground and wrap around the man’s legs and arms. The dagger drops from his grip as they pull him away from Keela. With a grunt she rights herself and shrugs out of the tattered robe. Reese struggles against his binds, but they are solid and each motion sinks their thorns further into his flesh. Keela dips down to retrieve the fallen weapon. She is wild and fearsome, an unconquerable predator in a world full of sheep. The ancient blood in his veins sings to see her like this and not for the first time does he question how much of the Elvhen truly remains in the remnants of his mortal kin. 

“We are the Dalish. Keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path,” Keela says, voice sharp like the fall of a guillotine. Solas thought these words were a mockery of everything, meaningless, arrogant and misguided, but through her mouth he begins to believe their power.

Reese panics, uncaring as his skin rips, babbling about mercy and begging for his life, but Keela has no ears for the unworthy. She places the blade against his throat, her gaze as piercing as any edge. “We are the last of the Elvhenan, _and_ _never again shall we submit_.”

The steels drags across and she doesn’t shirk away from the blood that pours forth. They both watch his vain attempts to draw in breath, watch as the light of life leaves his eyes and his body sags against its chains. Danger retreats from the plains for now but it is never far. The roots sink back into the ground, their purpose fulfilled, the promise of more violence waiting for those that can command them. Keela turns to Solas, blood smeared and untamable, unwilling to bend for any force, and he sees a taste of what it would be to suffer as her enemy. He has faced the gods of vengeance and justice, of war and rage, but he knows she would be his greatest battle yet. 

“Solas.” He almost takes a step back as she approaches, but as she nears the fury on her face melts away to concern. They reach for one another at the same time, hands desperate to offer comfort and find it. Her touch runs behind his neck and returns spattered in red. “Are you all right?”

He forgot about the blow to his head and can now feel the ache sharp and throbbing. “I am fine. You are injured far worse. The fact that you were able to call forth the mark-”

“ _No one_ will make me their slave. I would have killed us all before I let them make us Tranquil.” She laughs. “Perhaps I really am more Dalish than I like to think. I will never submit. I…I-”

She’s trembling as the adrenaline finally wears off and Solas holds her close, hands gentle as they try to worry loose her fears. “I know.” 

Keela wraps her fingers up in his tunic, sighing into his shoulder. "Have I ever mentioned how I dislike it here?" 

With a quiet smile, he kisses her temple before burying his face into her hair, the coppery smell of blood tickling his nose. “Once or twice.”

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rylen Romance

_If your character could time travel (or otherwise return to any point in their own lives), where would they go?_ Oh god Rylen x Keela x Solas feels incoming. RyKeelas? heh

“Your turn.”

“How about your mum’s name?”

“That’s too easy of a question.”

Rylen’s reply is cut off by a cough that strains his body and the sound is full of dust and mortar and something sickly that claws down Keela’s spine. They have been trapped at the bottom of the ruins for a few hours now but it seems like an eternity since they fell through the floor and landed among broken slabs of stone and splintered wood. She was able to snap a feeble barrier in place to save herself from serious injury, but Rylen had been too far out of reach.

What could be managed in splinting his shattered leg has been done but that hasn’t stopped her trying to heal him with every ounce of that magic known. There is something broken inside that she doesn’t have the skill to find so they have begun a game to pass the time and avoid the thought of wondering if this ruin will become a tomb instead, ignoring how his breath grows harsh and ragged.

“Getting you to speak about your family at all is never easy,” he finally manages.

“My mother’s name is Anaseia. She had a twin brother named Keelar. I was named in honor of him and he died when I was about five. After that she rarely called me by my name for some time.” She sighs. “Is that enough?”

It’s hard to tell if he looks guilty or pained. “Yes. Go ahead.”

She glances around them, at the clutter and darkening light above, and wishes she could get them away from here, but every attempt has been in vain. “If you could relive one day, what would it be?”

“Not this one that’s for sure,” he says, trying to laugh but it comes out all wrong. She reaches for him and helps as he tries to shift into a more comfortable position. It is in an effort that leaves him drained and Keela swallows the panic in her throat as his eyes drift shut. 

“Rylen!” She pulses healing into her hands, unsure where she is sending it but desperate to do something. He jerks open his eyes, black irises billowing up and shrinking, before he gives a reassuring smile that does not help. 

“Just thinking, love. Hmm…There’s a lake southeast of Starkhaven that we went to as a family. I was fifteen, the spring before I joined the Order. It was perfect weather, the lake was like glass. We fished during the day, drank ale by the fire at night. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt at peace like I did for those few days.”

Keela reaches into her own mind for a similar feeling and the memory rushes forward as if it had been waiting on the edges. There’s blood on the bottom of her boots but she doesn’t notice any of it as Solas takes her hand and twirls her across the balcony of the Winter Palace. It was a hard day, an exhausting night, but she feels weightless in his arms. Protected, strong, a queen whose kingdom is his smiles and his lips against her neck. That night years ago has begun to slip away piece by piece and she would give anything to be there again and remember a time when love didn’t come with so many scars.

Turning to face Rylen, she can tell he knows exactly where, or to who, her mind has wandered yet again. It is not fair to either of them and there is a flare of it in his expression. “My turn again,” he says and she dreads to hear what will come of this resolution in his voice. “Do you love me?”

She makes a noise, feigning annoyance when there’s only panic shifting to fear inside, and waves at his injuries. “This is not really the time, Rylen.”

“I think it is. Might be the only time.”

“I…” He has the right to ask, she knows. They both have been avoiding this moment for as long as possible, her more than either of them. She is just so tired of letting go. He is right, however. It is time. “Yes. Yes, I love you.”

It is his turn to sigh and it is filled with an acceptance that makes her ache for things lost. “But not as much as you still love him.” 

It is not posed as a question, like he has never questioned the possibility of anything else, but it’s not the real answer. It is not the reason she still holds back from giving him her whole heart anymore and hasn’t been for some time. The truth is a harder thing to face, a fear that reared its head in dreams and one she cannot speak aloud. Not yet, and now perhaps the time for it will never come.

“Inquisitor!” a voice shouts from above and she is on her feet in a flash, thankful for the timely distraction.

“Down here!” She sends a burst of fire and Fade above their heads. Relief washes through her when she sees familiar helms pop over the edge and disappear again with promises of bringing rope and more help.

Keela returns to Rylen’s side and keeps her gaze on the rocks and rubble around them. It is quiet for a long time and she’s faced enough ends now to know the sound of it by heart. 

“I think I’ll go back to that lake for a visit when we get out of here,” he says, head tilted back and eyes closed. “Did enjoy the fishing. May be that there’s a life waiting there. Maker knows I won’t be much use to anyone with this leg now.”

There is a hidden question lurking in his words. _Will you let me go?_ She looks away, a coward in a queen’s costume, and does not answer.

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solavellan

_Is your character superstitious?_ **(trespasser spoilers)**

Her hand reaches up to touch this new fresco but pauses. She knows these sweeping lines, these elegant curls. She remembers the smell of each dark color and bright gold, can hear the scratch of parchment and paintbrush pulling it all together into something beautiful. It is not wonderment that fills her now, however. Fingers rest against the swirling lines atop an elf’s face and follow them as they are pulled away towards an outstretched hand. Her gaze lifts to the looming figure above offering salvation and respite and rests her hand atop his own. 

Only when she was a child did she believe in the legends of her people, of gods that would protect her and comfort her from the world if she offered nothing by her devotion in return. But the older she became, the more she realized it was not Andruil that aided her in combat, nor Sylaise who fed them everyday. The gods are stories, nothing more, maybe based on something once but certainly not anything divine. They are tools to use to teach and nurture, tradition and culture to pass on.

Now she knows the truth and fights the urge to fall to her knees and scream.

The Great Betrayer of the elvhen rises above her, face half covered by a wolf’s headdress, but she can see the blue eyes beneath it in her memory. She can remember the feeling of his magic whisking away her vallaslin and giving her a freedom from shackles just like those in the painting. The People fear him, shun him, but the pieces of history she’s found through each eluvian speak of forgotten deeds to save the elvhen from horrific foes. A hero that became a monster, or perhaps he was always something of both.

She has already met with one god of her pantheon and she will find this one again too. She will not give up until he is utterly unmasked and these secrets finally laid bare at her feet. She will be the relentless courser on the wolf’s tail, for she caught his scent long ago and will not let go now.

Keela does not believe in the gods, but she believes in him. Not the Lord of Tricksters, the Bringer of Nightmares. Not He Who Hunts Alone, Fen’Harel. or the Dread Wolf. No, she knows him by another name and it echoes and echoes in her mind until she feels like it will shatter her apart.

 _Solas_.

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What might your character’s ideal romantic partner be? NSFW but not too graphic.

**NSFW**

Blood rushes heavy in her ears as he presses her into the wall. Their movements are a tangle of limbs and caresses made clumsy by their desperation and still new discovery of one another. Even so, she marvels at how well they seem to go together. Keela bites down on his lip and he gives a shove to her shoulders. He grinds hips into hers and she scratches nails down his side. Greedy give and take, battling back and forth, a dance in tune with their beating hearts, and she smiles against his mouth to have found a partner who knows the same steps.

He grasps the bottom of her shirt to pull it up but doesn’t let her escape from it completely. Her hands tangle in the sleeves above her head, caught, as he holds it tight just above her mouth and blinds her to the world. Any protests are swept away as his lips cover hers and his knee shoves between her thighs to hold her in place, but in truth she feels only excitement to be caught in his clever hold. 

His free hand roams across her stomach, palms her breasts, scratches down her side. With her eyes covered and sense lost, every touch is a greater pleasure and she stifles a cry out as his mouth wraps around her neck. She shivers in anticipation for every caress she cannot seen coming, feels them like lightning strikes against her skin. His hand slips into her smalls and she does not fight against the moans that break through her lips as his fingers work her into a frenzy. She pushes into his touch, hips circling to help him find the perfect way to make her unravel, legs shivering when he presses just right and every part of her trembles. 

Before she can tumble into oblivion, his hands shift to wrap around her and carry them both away from the wall. She spins through the air, crashes down upon the soft couch and is soon covered by his hard body. The world flashes bright as the shirt is pulled away from her head and she shivers at the way his eyes have darkened. They make short work of disrobing one another, anticipation tickling inside her stomach as her fingers unwrap the lacing of his pants. She can barely feel the cool air of Skyhold against her exposed skin with this fire burning inside her veins. 

As he leans down intent upon claiming her, Keela smirks and pushes on his shoulders. He does not resist her demands as she throws him against the back of the couch and straddles him. Her grins slackens with a groan as she takes him inside and rolls her hips a few times before sinking all the way into his lap. His fingers dig into her sides to hold her there, but it his expression that captivates. When they are together there is no hiding behind stations, no guessing at what lurks behind the masks that must be worn. She knows what he wants and it is her. Only her.  Everything about this is perfect. He is perfect and she shuts her eyes again to feel it all.

They take a few more shattered breaths and then she moves, slow at first to watch every muscle react beneath his skin, to catch his lips and make them dark red with bites and blood brought to the surface, and then faster, as his fingers tangle in her hair and tug. His mouth sears against her chest, teeth scraping, and she would let him devour her heart if it meant she could feel like this forever. 

He tells her of his adoration with every unfiltered moan and the way his fingers dig into her flesh like he will never let her go. He looks at her as if there is nothing beyond the sight of her, the feel of her. There is a universe within his eyes only for her and inside there are constellations creating she could never fathom before. When his hand moves between her thighs she truly does see stars as she shatters, a bliss that breaks in waves leaving her gasping for air.

Pleasure washes anew through her to watch him come undone and see his pale skin flush, hear her name seep through clenched teeth like she is a secret he cannot contain. He clings to her and she holds him close as shockwaves of release ripple through their sweat soaked bodies. Keela leaves her lips against the pulse of his neck, the slope of his jaw, lazy kisses with little thought but more meaning than she can pronounce just yet. 

It is quiet for a few long breathes before a sigh blows against her skin as his arms wrap around her in return, fingers running up and down her spine in comforting strokes. He knows she doesn’t like to bask in the afterglow for too long all tangled up and caught when she is a thing made for freedom. But she doesn’t let him escape from her grasp this time, burying her face into his collar, and it is also a fleeting moment until she feels a smile on his lips and his hands grip tighter. He only takes what she is willing to give and now, she finds she wants to give so much more to him. Only him.

“Stay,” she says and he does, for as long as she can hold on.

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solavellan

_Describe your character’s hands. Are they small, long, calloused, smooth, stubby?_

He is at the mercy of her hands tonight. 

After weeks of sleeping with rocks beneath their spines and dirt stuck to skin, they’ve finally returned to Skyhold and its hot baths and heavy beds. He thinks she will pounce at the opportunity to be alone behind stone walls, to tear through clothes and sink into flesh with teeth and nails. The hungry need for it is rolling in his blood too, to touch every part of her and make her moan his name. 

And she does at first, mouth hard and hot against his, touch demanding to feel and to be felt as pieces fall away to reveal bare bodies straining to be near one another. It is a rush he is coming to crave as they meet again and again, a bright burst of eternity whose shockwaves echo long after the bang. But when she pushes him onto the bed she pauses, head tilting like a curious predator, and instead of climbing atop him settles down at his side. 

Keela bats away his hands and places them by his hips. “Stay put,” she says, although the commanding look on her face would have been enough to keep him captured. “I want to…”

A hand reaches out, slowly, and he can’t help but breathe in as fingers smooth down his arm. She takes her time, tracing veins and faint freckles, running down each of his own fingers before skimming over to his hip. She swirls a small circle there and he jolts at the sudden sensation, watches her lips curl and eyes light up at such a discovery. Both her hands dig into his thighs to feel muscles move, tickle tips of nails down the bridges of his feet and they both laugh as he gives feeble kicks. She skips over places that once longed for her touch. He still wants it, more desperately than he should admit, but something new builds inside as she continues her impromptu study. 

He closes his eyes and savors every gentle drag of her fingers. It has been so long since anyone has touched him in such a manner, slow and soft, seeking the places that make him sigh and shudder with delight. He wonders if she can feel how she’s making him breathless as palms splay across his chest, how his heart beats faster when a finger follows the line of his pulse up his neck. As she outlines the contours of his ears he believes her hands are the most perfect ones in existence and it is the first time he must grip the sheets to resist reaching out to her.

She spends a great deal of time rubbing circles into his scalp when she notices the way his face relaxes in bliss and at the little slip of a satisfied moan. Keela traces across his brows and the scar above, slides down the slope of his nose, taps a fingertip into the cleft of his chin, and pays close attention to the shape of lips for awhile more. Her hand finally comes to rest wrapped around his jaw, a thumb making a lazy line across his cheek, and he opens his eyes. They narrow slightly to see a strange look in her expression. Keela’s mouth is open, as if she might say something, but her brow is creased like she can’t find the words. And yet he can see them in her yellow eyes. It is the reflection of his own heart, of this love that’s growing stronger with each day that neither of them can find the way to confess. He knows he shouldn’t, knows she doesn’t understand it. He should pull away before she does, before she gives him what she has never given anyone else so thoroughly. He should resist this. 

Instead his hands seek for her long fingers, all silk and warmth, and admires every carefully trimmed nail before he kisses every last tip and the power marking her palm. It hums beneath his lips and he wonders if it beats in time with her heart or his, wonders if there’s even a difference anymore. Keela smiles above him, beautiful and blazing, a falling star against the blackness, and he knows one thing.

He is at the mercy of her and it is too easy a thing to submit.

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rylen Romance

_Second day of favorites! How about…favorite accent hehe :3 Get some early Rylen relationship flirting going here._

 

 _“_ That chancellor is as big a fool as I’ve ever heard. I don’t know how you’ve put up with them all for so long. If I were you, I would’ve shoved my boot up his arse.”

Keela skids to a stop at the voice and sweeps her gaze across the training yard for the source. The lilt is not something she expects to find so far down south, the way the vowels roll and the consonants drag. It’s not the strongest Starkhaven accent she’s ever heard, but the sound has her sighing regardless.

“I somehow doubt that would’ve helped matters,” Cullen replies nearby and she sets her feet towards the Commander and the man standing by his side. She’s not sure she’s ever seen him around Haven before. Tall as most humans are, wrapped up in something like the Inquisition’s scouting armor with a few interesting additions, least of all that gleaming silver helm atop his head.

“Seems our Lady Herald would have liked a swing at him too. She-ah, speaking of….” 

Cullen turns to her with an almost bashful expression. “Your Worship, I was-”

“Just going to introduce me?” she interrupts.

 _“_ Oh, right, of course. This is Knight-Captain Rylen. I met him while still in Kirkwall.”

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Herald.” Rylen’s leather clad grip is strong and soft, but all she can concentrate on are the tattoos now visible. Four thick lines drop down beneath his lips while another curves on the one side of his nose. She’s never seen such markings on a human before.

“Céad míle fáilte,” she replies.

His brows shoot up in surprise. “You-”

“Commander!”

“Excuse me,” Cullen says and steps away towards an approaching messenger. 

“You know traditional Starkhaven greetings?” Rylen continues once he is farther away.

“I am from the Free Marshes, remember? Starkhaven happens to be one of my favorite places to visit.”

“I suppose it has its charms.”

“I have always found the men there rather charming.”

He laughs, something raspy yet deep, and she’s glad she’s worn boots to hide how her toes curl at the sound. “Is that a fact?” he says, clear blue eyes glancing at her more closely now. “I doubt you’ve met many of them then. Bunch of daft fools if you ask me.”

“Maybe I’ve just been lucky to stumble across the finest ones,” she replies and has to smirk to herself when he stands a little straighter. He is handsome in a rugged way, long scars and strong build. She could do much worse. “How did you join the Inquisition?” 

She listens as he tells her about Kirkwall and his experiences thus far under the one eyed banner, but she finds it difficult to focus on the words instead of the way they flow from his lips. Then she can’t help but stare at those lips, wide and plump, and pictures them abseiling down her neck, the stubble of his days’ old beard scratching against her thighs. That beautiful voice worshiping where she wants it most.

 _Gods it’s been too long_.

“And how are you finding the Inquisition, M’Lady?” He’s watching her behind crossed arms and a knowing grin. Keela realizes she’s let their conversation lapse into silence for a few heartbeats as her mind wanders. Despite a flutter of shy embarrassment in her gut, she doesn’t shirk away and moves a small step forward instead.

“It has,” she pauses to cock her head, “potential. May I ask you about your tattoos?”

He takes a moment to answer, mouth chewing on a thought, before he seems to decide on something. “Aye, you may. Tonight over a pint.”

Keela gives an interested hum and clasps her hands behind her back when all she really wants to do is scream and jump around at this turn of events. Most of the men here look at her like some savior made of marble and gold, like they will burn beneath Blessed Andraste’s blade if they dare get too close which suits her just fine on my days, but not during lonely nights. Besides her companions, Rylen seems to be the first one to remember that she was a very mortal being when all this began. At least, she hopes he does.

“Tonight then, after the advisor meeting.”

“I look forward to it, Lady Herald.”

“Keela will do.”

He gives a little bow. “I look forward to it, Keela.”

She nods and strides away, maybe too quickly, but there’s too much heat rising up her collar at the way her name rolls across that accented tongue to remain any longer. There is no doubt, however, that she can’t wait to hear more of it and perhaps find out just what other things that mouth might have to offer tonight.


	27. Chapter 27

_Pick two songs that describe your character at two different points of their life, and explain why you chose them._

 

The drums rattle like lightning, peeling through the air bright and loud until a deep thundering sound follows and makes the earth rumble beneath her. They turn bolder like a storm growing near, a heavy music growing that she thumps her foot to. Sticks clash and rolls against one another and she sways like a tree caught in the wind, tilts her face upwards as if a flower seeking nourishment. A flute trills through the air, birds taking flight from the squall, but she stands steadfast, arms curling into the sky to welcome the great change.

The sounds all rush together, building and building, boiling her blood as hot as the bonfire against her back, and when they break into pieces again like rain all around she finally moves. Legs shake beneath her and she tumbles across the ground, a child learning how to walk beneath the eyes of her clan. She jumps up and hunches down, reaches out and pulls in knowledge and with every circle around the fire, she grows taller until she is stretched out grappling for the stars. 

There are others around her and she circles through them, loops limbs around theirs, tugs and pulls, breathes in their breaths and exhales their shared hopes. It is a dance danced by thousands before her and will be danced by thousands after her. In this moment, she is connected to them all and for once it is not a burden she wishes to shrug off. It is a gift.

The drumming thunder rolls away, the birds settle upon branches and the rain sounds fall away until she is moving slowly to the fire crackling. The storm has come and gone and something new rises from the life giving flood. Tonight, beneath the moon, she is a sapling child of the Dales. Tomorrow, she will sprout branches under her eyes to become a daughter of Mythal and there will be no stopping how she will grow now.

* * *

Josephine insists on one last spin around the room before she’ll be satisfied Keela is ready for this evening. Somehow she manages to wrangle a few musicians into Gaspard’s parlor. They warm up for a few minutes sounding like grasshoppers and frogs calling out to mates as Keela stands in the center of the room with Dorian standing opposite. The pair bows to one another before stepping close, arms creating boxes around each other even as they touch.

The strings begin soft at first, a wave in the distance growing nearer until the crash of a cymbal brings them to shore. Two melodies run along beside each other, a steady rhythm that she can hear each step in as she counts in her head and moves her feet in the right direction, and another jumping tune that makes her feel like she’s lighter than air, floating on clouds held aloft by the saccharine sounds alone.

They circle and sweep across the room, travelling and going nowhere at the same time. One song flows into the next and she can barely tell the difference save for the trill of a piano sounding like gems falling onto the floor one by one. There is no greater meaning to the music, no history behind the steps like moving pages of a book. There is only what it will mean if she fumbles for they will look upon her as the savage she is if she cannot follow their steps.

As Cassandra shoves Cullen into her embrace next she laughs at the furrow between his brows, but steadies him with a smile and strong arms. She has mastered these simple steps already and eases him into them even though parts of her want to lash out like a wildfire, to move only as the wind commands and go where only she wants. This dance is subtle, dangerous even as it is beautiful, so she lets the fire light up her eyes, smoke curling her lips into a smoldering smile. Yesterday she was an upstart Dalish with miraculous magic as her shield. Tonight, she will be the Inquisitor who brings all of Orlais to its knees.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solavellan

_If your character’s life was a genre, what would it be?_

Varric taps the quill’s feathers gently against his chin as his eyes gaze across the great hall. He wants to write down what happened on their latest journeys across Thedas for his new book before the memories slip away. It seems impossible that they would, but when you live the kind of life he does incredible feats of fancy are just normal everyday happenings. When did the universe decide to change from non-fiction to fiction? It’s the only explanation for red lyrium and holes in the sky. This shit cannot be real.

“This shit is weird,” he mutters to himself. Not the most eloquent of titles, but certainly accurate. It’ll do for now.

The hardest part is decided what to add to the Inquisitor’s tale. Burying Haven and battling through the blinding snow, defeating dragon after dragon, liberating the Exalted Plains, playing the Game with the highest stakes. There’s just too much to be believable, and that’s not including the evil magister and the whole glowing hand business. Who could survive it all?

He’s not sure what direction to take this new book. It’s not a horror tale, although they’ve definitely faced their fair share of things no one should. Jumping through to the Fade, taking on twisted templars with red lyrium bursting from their skin, the Envy demon getting in the Inquisitor’s head. It’s not a comedy even if laughing is the only way to get through some of it. Of course, there was their night of Wicked Grace, Sera’s endless pranks and basically every conversation Dorian and Vivienne have, and who could forget the Seeker’s great secret. 

He thinks a good old drama will set the mood right and certainly capture Lavellan. He’s only met one other person that thrives so much on conflict as her and he’s not sure if she enjoys it or she’s just good at handling it. Probably both. So, a drama with some horror, a few scenes of comedy, intrigue, some grazing over the anchor and its workings because Maker knows he can’t fully understand it. It might be his most compelling work yet. He’s not so much worried about how to pull it together as much as he is about the ending though. Like he said, this story’s no good for heroes and that’s exactly what she is.

“Is that a fact, Solas?”

Varric turns to watch the Inquisitor step out of the rotunda door with the apostate in tow. There’s an easy smile on her lips that changes her face, reminding him how young she is. Sometimes even he forgets she’s not something cast in marble just yet.

“It is merely a theory for now, one that I would be interested in further testing,” Solas replies. 

Keela laughs and the pair moves together, Solas wrapping his arms around her hips as she throws an arm around his neck, like it is as natural as breathing. It almost seems cliche, but sometimes the best things are. They do make a striking image, Varric thinks, as his finger twitch around the quill. Inspiring, even.

“Well then, I look forward to helping you with your scientific pursuits tonight.” It is a whisper curling against lips and when they close the small distance Varric looks away. It’s not exactly a private place, but he knows when to stop snooping for material. He hears a few words, elven and quiet, and ‘vhenan’ is the only one he can latch onto, then Keela is halfway down the hall by the time he turns his gaze back.

A certain term Merrill said once perfectly describes Solas’ expression now. _Puppy eyes_. He can hear Fenris grumbling about it and resists the urge to laugh as the mage finally seems to notice him. 

“Master Tethras,” he greets, calm and cool again.

“Chuckles.”

Solas clears his throat and gives a farewell before returning to his paints and papers and whatever weird thing he found this week  and leaves storyteller to his work. Varric stares back down at the unfinished draft of the life and times of Inquisitor Lavellan.

He’ll make sure he throws in a little romance too.

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solavellan

_How does your character smell? Do they wear perfume or cologne?_

She sighs as the brush pulls through her hair in slow strokes. Her skin is still tingling from the scorching bath and hardened soap she used to scour every speck of dirt and grime away. Bathing on the road is never a true substitute for the luxuries of home. Keela can’t wait to plummet into her soft bed next and it will be even better with the figure that finally appears in the mirror.

“I was beginning to wonder if you had fallen asleep in your chair,” she says as she turns to face Solas approaching with a small package in hand.

“It is an excellent chair, but no. An item Lady Montilyet procured for me arrived while we were away.”

“Oh? What is it?”

He hesitates a moment, fingers tightening and releasing around the simply wrapped parcel. If she didn’t know any better, she would believe he was nervous. “It is for you,” he reveals and then the words seem to rush out of him. “It is nothing extravagant, nor do I expect anything in return. As Inquisitor, you have been given many gifts in hopes for future favors. I do not want you to think-”

“I _think_ you are being ridiculous.” She softens the words with a smile and a gentle touch. 

He laughs, shaking his head. Without another word, he passes the item into her waiting hands. She briefly thinks about torturing him by drawing the moment out, but the earnest look upon his face has her ripping at the paper. Beneath is a lacquered, plain box with a silver latch. When she lifts the lid, Keela lets out a soft breath. It is an elegant, clear glass bottle etched with vines and a diamond shaped top. Inside swishes amber liquid that she can smell in her memory. Regardless, she places the box on her vanity and pops the lid off the perfume. Scents of vanilla, cream and sandalwood swirl up into her nose.

It makes her think of a home thousands of leagues away, of a life surrounded by woodsmoke and halla and how she wanted just a taste of the brighter things found in cities. The tiny vial she managed to buy has kept for years and is one of her prized possessions. It was only luck that she carried it in her pack the day of the conclave, that it hasn’t broken every day since through all her travels.

“I noticed your supply running low and thought you might appreciate a replacement,” Solas says, shifting on his feet at her silence. She glances up at him to see concern in his expression now. Of all responses she doubts he thought she would be rendered speechless, but it is strange holding her past and having her present standing before her, all of it mixing together into something potent. 

He takes a step away. “If you do not-”

She makes up for lost ground and then some, pressing her lips into his to stop his words and worries. Her kiss curls up at the ends as she grips tight to his tunic with her free hand. “I love it, of course I do. I just can’t believe…how did you find it?”

“You told me you bought the original in Wycome. With that knowledge and a sample, the Ambassador was able to locate the vendor. The Inquisition is indeed fortunate to have such a skilled diplomat.”

“You took some of my perfume?”

He smiles at her playful accusation. “Clearly not enough to warrant suspicion.”

“It took me forever to find enough money to pay for mine and this is three times as large.”

“The Inquisition provides me a monthly stipend for my services yet also sees to my basic necessities. There is little else I need.”

There is more meaning in the soft spoken words and she understands it as his thumbs roll circles into her back and his eyes gaze at her with unveiled affection. Warmth blooms beneath her cheeks and she feels the nervous one now. Yet it’s the wonder of butterflies fluttering inside the cage of her ribs and slipping through the bars, beautiful and vibrant and something like magic.

“Then why have I not been showered with gifts this whole time?” she teases before stealing the laughter from his mouth. Keela kisses him again, longer this time, until there’s no doubt how grateful she is nor what she is truly grateful for.

 


	30. Chapter 30

_And finally: Write a letter to your character, from ~~yourself~~. Some other peeps are going to write her letters._

_Given to the Inquisitor by Scout Harding._

Da’len,

I will make this short. We have all been worried, Suvenya especially. She misses you, as do I and Denras, although he likes to show is affection by demanding I let him bring you home. I imagine that will only make things worse for you and I have been assured by your people that you are well and truly safe. As safe as someone can be in these times, and we are still trying to understand your role in all this. 

Regardless, I know you can handle yourself. You are smart and determined. I will forever remember the little child in the middle of the road with fire in her eyes and I have no doubt it will see you through this challenge. I do not know your intentions but I can guess at them. No matter what, know that I hope you find the home you’ve been looking for and you will always be welcome in our aravel.

May Elgar’nan illuminate your path. 

-Deshanna

* * *

_Placed atop a white box with a green bow._

Morning Love,

I know you said you didn’t want any fuss over your birthday, but you can’t boss me around when I’m off duty. What’s inside the box is nothing too special anyway. Just saw it and thought of you. Got another surprise for you though waiting at the stables whenever you’re ready. I thought, if she’s going to wallop me, I might as well make it worth it.

And you are worth it. I know I’m not good at saying these things, so let me make a proper fool of myself on paper.  You’re stubborn and frustrating and make my job harder than it should be, but you’re clever and strong and make this old soldier feel a tad younger. There’s not one thing about you I don’t cherish. I’ll always consider myself lucky to have met you.

Put on some riding gear. If I have any say- those brown leggings. You know how I think they bring out your best assets. 

-Rylen

* * *

_Found beneath rubble, wrinkled and edges burned. The letter is unsigned._

Vhenan,

There is not much time left. If I can offer you one last thing, it will be the truth although I suspect it will bring you little comfort. I know it is what you always wanted, however, and I _The next sentence is scratched out and unreadable._

It has been long since I dreamed of lost empires and battlefields, of ancient ruins and the deep recesses of the Fade. I dream only of your laughter, the curve of your hands. You are the future I would choose if my choices were my own, but they are not. I know you understand this more than anyone. If only understanding alone could alter the outcome.

I pleaded with you to live well with what time remained, yet you have instead tried to thwart my plans and reach me. _More words are blocked out and smudged._ You have, despite all logic, never given up and it means more than you can imagine. I wish it could change what must be done. You are brave and noble and I have given you a fight no mortal could win. I am sorry, vhenan. It was never your fault. Above everything else, please believe that.

* * *

_A short note done by a child’s hand with some words misspelled, but easily translated._

Mamae,

Yesterday we went to the river and caught frogs. Tali doesn’t like them and screamed but I like them. Ani got mud in his hair. Today Unca showed me how to make a potion. It turned rocks into butterflies but they went away. I want him to show me something else. Can I learn to make fireballs yet? It is fun to mix things together. I hope you come home soon. Papa is not very good at braiding my hair and he forgets how to make my sandwiches. I miss you! Will you write me back? 

Love, Fenera

_Added below is a colorful drawing of a smiling family next to a river and beneath a bright sun. There are several frogs._

* * *

 


End file.
